


Like Sand Through Fingers

by xenadragon_xoxo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Secret Snarry Swap 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21756910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenadragon_xoxo/pseuds/xenadragon_xoxo
Summary: When the new Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement finds out that Harry never achieved an O.W.L. in Potions, she takes him off Auror duty and sends him back to Hogwarts to take Seventh year Potions. Harry thinks it can't get any worse, but then he finds out that the Potions teacher is still Snape.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 35
Kudos: 305
Collections: Secret Snarry Swap19





	Like Sand Through Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my beta for getting all this done despite having a last-minute life thing crop up! And thank you to the prompter for such an interesting prompt.
> 
> Prompt No. 21 from suitesamba: Harry's been an Auror for five (or more) years when the new Director of the MLE reviews his files and realizes he never earned an O.W.L. in Potions. Harry is forced to go back to Hogwarts and take 7th year Potions - with Professor Snape. Snape can also be headmaster, or not, but I'd like to see grown-up Harry in class with Hogwarts' best 7th-year Potions students.

Harry Potter walked into the Auror Office one morning into quite a bit of commotion. Aurors and Trainees were whispering among themselves much more than usual and everything was much too lively for this time of morning. 

"Alright, mate?" a voice asked, and a hand clapped Harry on the back from behind. He turned his head to see Ron grinning at him, looking excited about something. 

Harry nodded at him in greeting. "What's all this about?"

"New Director takes over today," Ron replied. "Blimey, Harry, don't you remember?"

Right. Harry vaguely recalled some talk about the subject. "Remind me who's replacing Williamson?" 

"Someone named Proudfoot," Ron replied. "Not much has been heard about them - at least, not among us."

Harry frowned. He should really pay more attention to office goings-on. "I feel like I've heard that name before."

"They worked at Hogsmeade when we had all those Dementors about, I'm told," Ron said. "That was their last job before they went off to America for some assignment or other. They've been gone since then."

It was definitely an interesting decision to install a new Department of Magical Law Enforcement Director who had been out of the country for such a long time. "So all this talk is about speculation?" Harry asked, gesturing to the hearty discussion happening around them.

"Sure," Ron responded. "I mean, we're Aurors, what did you expect we -"

Ron's explanation was cut short by a bright yellow memo that flew right into Harry's face. He scrunched his nose and grabbed at the little animated piece of paper and it quickly fell still in his hand. "Is there really no better way to get these things around?"

Ron didn't seem concerned by Harry's complaint. "What's it say?"

Harry unfolded the paper bird and saw a very rough style of cursive writing etched within. It read,

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Come to the office of the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at once._

_Regards,  
Divyarani Proudfoot _

Ron was already reading over Harry's shoulder. "Divyarani Proudfoot. Hey, that's the new Director!"

"Wow, good job," Harry said. "I can really see why you're an Auror with those detective skills."

Ron ignored his sarcasm. "She's calling you into her office? On her first day?"

Harry had to admit, this made him feel just a little bit nervous. It was very rare for any non-senior Auror to be called in to see an authority figure outside of the Auror's Office. To be asked - no, ordered - to speak to the MLE Director was nothing short of intimidating. Especially when that Director probably hadn't even had the chance to settle in. 

"What do you suppose it's about?" Ron asked.

"No clue," Harry replied. "Maybe they're a fan."

Ron snorted. "I'm going to tell Hermione you said that. It'll prove her right about the fame getting to your head."

Harry waved him off. "Right, I'd better see what this is about, then."

Ron nodded. "Don't worry, mate. I'm sure it's nothing serious."

\----

"Good morning, Severus. I see you've arrived early."

"Good morning, Pomona. I have some things to take care of before our school year begins."

"I'm in the same boat! My Screechsnaps have been particularly fussy lately, you know? Anyway, the Headmistress wants to see you."

"Already?"

"Oh, hush, I'm sure you've done nothing wrong."

"That, somehow, does not convince me."

\----

It was a short walk through Level Two to get from the Auror Office to the Director's room. Harry knocked sharply on the door twice. A soft but stern voice soon arose from within.

"Enter."

Harry pushed the door open and stepped into the office, a relatively large and boring-looking room packed with filing cabinets that stored all sorts of documents, one of which was now sitting on the large oak desk in the middle of the room. But even the fact that the document in question had Harry's picture clipped to it didn't detract from the commanding presence of the new Director in the room.

The Director was standing when Harry entered, and it looked as though she had been in the middle of reading over some other files from one of the chestnut cabinets. When she turned to look at him, her eyes, the colour of copper, seemed to bore right through his own. Her long black hair was neatly tied into a loose, flowy braid behind her back, with some wisps around her hairline escaping to frame the dark brown skin of her face. Immediately, Harry got the feeling that this was someone who was absolutely not to be messed with. 

"Mr. Potter," Director Proudfoot said. Her voice was quiet, yet somehow resonant, as though she didn't need to speak loudly to be heard, and instead the world lowered its volume to let her speak. "We have some matters to discuss. Sit."

Harry did as he was told. "It's good to meet you, Director," he said.

Director Proudfoot did not return his pleasantry. "I understand you have been with us since 1999, correct?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. That's when I began training."

"Hmm." Director Proudfoot sat down in her chair - a rather garish, opulent one decked out with gold accents and leather that had been in this office since before Harry even began training. "Are you aware, Mr. Potter, of the necessary requirements for becoming an Auror?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell them to me?"

Harry felt like he was back in training all of a sudden. "Five N.E.W.T.s."

"That's right." Director Proudfoot picked up the document in front of her - the one that had Harry's picture on it. "Yet, you don't seem to meet those requirements."

"I joined the year after the Battle of Hogwarts," Harry said quickly. "That's when they relaxed the rules, so it was just Es and above for O.W.L.s in the necessary subjects."

Director Proudfoot put the piece of paper down and scrutinised Harry with such a stern expression that he felt as though he was going to be shrunk down. "Yes, I know," she said. "And those are the requirements you didn't meet."

"E-excuse me?"

The director's gaze intensified, and Harry broke eye contact, focusing instead on the small red dot between her eyebrows. 

"You achieved only an Acceptable in Potions," she stated. "I believe that you were given a free pass up to N.E.W.T. level Potions because of your overall aptitude, which I can respect, somewhat. However, this means that you never proved yourself capable of a Potions qualification."

Harry swallowed nervously. She wasn't wrong. McGonagall and Dumbledore had been lenient with him, but he got the feeling that Director Proudfoot wouldn't be quite the same. "So… should I take the O.W.L. exam again?"

The Director shook her head. "After all these years? Certainly not. You are now being evaluated by our current standards, which are much less relaxed."

"Evaluated?"

"You will have to take N.E.W.T. level Potions in full and return the required results."

This would be tricky, but surely not impossible. Maybe he could beg Hermione for tips beforehand. "I can take the exam again, yeah."

"That is not what I meant." Director Proudfoot sounded impatient now. "You will be taking all classes of a standard Seventh year Potions curriculum."

This was much less welcome in Harry's book. "But, Director -"

"And, until then, you will cease your work as an Auror."

"What?" Harry was horrified. "Director, I've been an Auror for five years. I passed three years of training before that with flying colours. Surely my expertise on the field -"

"And one day, you may need the Potions knowledge you lack on the field," she replied, cutting him off. The finality in her tone indicated that there was no room for argument. "You're in luck, Mr. Potter. I came in at just the right time - I believe a new school year is about to begin soon."

"Wait, what? Aren't we just going to get a tutor for me, or something?"

Director Proudfoot didn't even seem interested in dignifying that with a response. "You won't have to stay at Hogwarts, of course. Simply attend Potions classes as indicated in your timetable for the year. I will contact the Headmistress for you and inform her of your attendance, so she can send you a class schedule and be ready for you by Floo."

Harry's head was starting to spin. "Director, this is ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "I've proven myself time and time again here. Shouldn't that count for something?"

"Control yourself, Mr. Potter," the Director said. She didn't sound harsh or angry, but her tone conveyed a certain level of danger. "I do not make the rules, and your reputation does not give you a free pass to break them. Besides, I do not believe you'll have much difficulty settling back into classes."

Harry almost didn't dare to ask. "And why is that?"

"The Potions Professor remains the same," she replied. "Professor Severus Snape."

And it was at that moment that Harry realized he was in for what might be the worst year of his life. 

\----

"You wanted to see me, Minerva?"

"Yes, Severus. Have a seat."

"No thank you. I prefer to stand."

"Suit yourself."

"What does this concern?"

"You will be joined by a new student this year for your Seventh year classes."

"A transfer?"

"Not quite, Severus. Not quite."

\----

When Harry arrived in the Headmistress' office on the afternoon of September 3rd for his first Potions class, he was reminded of why he hated Floo travel so much. He choked and coughed his way to his feet as footsteps rushed towards him.

"It is good to see you again, Mr. Potter."

Harry dusted himself off and looked up to see Professor McGonagall standing before him. The Headmistress was smiling - which came as a surprise to Harry - and looked rather radiant for a person who had been teaching at Hogwarts for around five decades. Harry wondered if there was any hope at all that he'd look that lively when he got anywhere near her age. 

"Professor McGonagall," Harry greeted her. "It's really nice to see you too."

She nodded. "Go along now, you mustn't be late! Professor Snape has not become more lenient over the years."

Harry wasn't too sure how he felt about the idea of just simply waltzing through the school halls as if he belonged there, but the Headmistress had already ushered him out the door. Before he could think of a suitable statement of protest, the stairs had begun to descend, rotating their way down to the floor below.

The old halls felt familiar and foreign at the same time. The layout was identical to his memories, so much so that his feet were carrying him to the dungeons on autopilot, but everything seemed so strange and… different. He wasn't arrogant enough to believe that he could innately sense that these walls had been rebuilt since the Battle of Hogwarts, but he did think that there was an inherent separation between Hogwarts as he once knew it and the school that it was today. 

Some students hurried by, paying him no mind, but most stared as he passed them. It was at this point that Harry became very aware of his age. He was by no means old, but he certainly felt like it when everyone around him was so clearly young. He couldn't remember being _that_ tiny as a First year student. They were pint-sized!

But even the older students, some taller than he was, seemed so youthful. Their eyes were bright, their steps were light, and their faces were free from lines and marks of age. He would have to be in a class full of these students, soon. He wasn't sure how that would feel.

At long last, Harry got to the dungeon - and the door into the class was wide open. Judging by the sound of droning lecturing coming from inside, Potions was already in session. This wasn't going to be a great start. 

Steeling himself, Harry took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into the classroom. Cool air swept over him, and he remembered just how cold this dungeon could be. He glanced around and realised that dead silence had fallen over the classroom, apart from a familiar trickling sound that he knew came from the icy water that tumbled out of a gargoyle in the corner.

Standing in front of the classroom, dressed in the same black, boring robes Harry could still recall, was Severus Snape. His eyes were fixated on Harry, and a scowl had come upon the teacher's face. 

"Mr. Potter," he said. "Our new celebrity."

From the quiet of the classroom erupted a good deal of whispering and muttering. All 20-odd of the students - Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in this particular class - were now wrapped up in discussion, possibly about what Harry was doing here and if he was _that_ Potter.

"Nice to see you again too, Professor," Harry said. He was surprised at how naturally the sarcastic sentence left his lips. A few scattered giggles emanated from the hushed classroom conversation. 

Snape quirked an eyebrow upwards and turned to address the class. "Unfortunately, class, we will be joined by Mr. Potter for the rest of this academic year."

"I wouldn't say it's unfortunate," Harry said. "I mean, I think it's more unfortunate for me than for them."

There was more laughter at that, but Harry was sure most of it was nervous in nature. He wasn't surprised that Snape made people anxious. That's what he'd done for all of Harry's classes, too, and it made sense that he was still the same old grumpy Potions professor, greasy hair and all.

But, to be quite honest, Snape didn't actually look exactly like he had before. He still had his black hair falling over his face in an unruly manner, and he still glared over his hooked nose, but there was just… something different, somehow. Perhaps it was that he looked better - a certain charm lingered in his dark black eyes and pale downturned lips, as impossible as that sounded. Or maybe it was in the way he carried himself - no longer like a man with secrets and fear, but like a man very annoyed that Harry had the audacity to even dare to exist right now. As much as Hogwarts had become foreign in Harry's absence, Snape had as well.

"As insolent as ever, I see," Snape said coldly. "Need I start taking points from Gryffindor on your behalf, Potter?" Before Harry could reply, Snape continued, "Sit down. Now."

Harry shrugged and obliged. Picking the right battles was important, and this wasn't a battle he needed to have right now. He made his way to an empty seat at the back of the class, barely registering the faces of the other students. 

"Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted? Or was no one paying attention at all?"

Well, he clearly hadn't changed that much if he was the most miserable Professor that Harry had ever had the displeasure of knowing.

"Clabbert pustules, sir!"

The voice that responded to Snape's passive-aggressive scowling came from Harry's left. Apparently, he had been so out of it when he sat down that he didn't even realize that he'd taken a spot right next to someone else, and that person was now enthusiastically answering Snape's query.

The student in question had a messy rush of short, blond hair, bright blue eyes, and an eagerness that reminded Harry a lot of Hermione - practically bouncing up and down in that chair, as though answering the question correctly would solve all of the world's problems. And, if Harry remembered correctly, Snape never took kindly to anyone smart who wasn't in Slytherin - and this person had Hufflepuff robes on. 

"Thank you, Rambert," Snape said, nodding approvingly. Harry looked forward in surprise. Snape hadn't snapped and taken out his frustration on the first person kind enough to respect him! Now, _that_ was something Harry hadn't been expecting. He was also wearing a positive expression, something Harry had never seen on Snape's face before. Sure, it wasn't exactly a smile, or even close to one, but it wasn't bursting with pure hatred for once. It completely changed how his face looked.

"Yes!" Rambert muttered, pumping their fist in celebration under the table.

"He's such a know-it-all," someone muttered - a Gryffindor from the other side of the room.

Snape's expression dramatically morphed into a somewhat poisonous one. "It's 'they', Barett."

"Right." The student, who had a half-shaved haircut that Harry was fairly certain hadn't been allowed at Hogwarts back in his day, waved back at Rambert with an apologetic grin. "Sorry! I forgot. Anyway, they're such a know-it-all."

"At least I know the answers!" Rambert shot back haughtily.

"Enough," Snape said. Silence immediately fell over the classroom once more. Harry supposed that no amount of changing for the better could take away the unwavering sense of authority Snape naturally exuded. He'd been having quite a few run-ins with intimidating authority figures recently, come to think of it. "As I was saying, Clabbert pustules are, as is painfully obvious, taken from Clabberts, which are Magical Creatures native to southern America. Can anyone tell me the appearance of a Clabbert?"

Rambert's hand rushed up into the air.

"Let's give others a chance to answer, shall we?" Snape reprimanded. "I refuse to believe I have only one student who bothers with the assigned reading." His gaze swept the class and rested on the Gryffindor who had spoken up a moment ago. "Since you were so eager to contribute, Barett, perhaps you have some insight?"

"They're green, aren't they, sir?" Barett said. "With, like, horns, or whatever. And a red gem in the middle of their gross heads."

"Surprisingly, that is accurate," Snape said. "But that red 'gem' is, in fact, the pustule we so regularly seek for crafting potions. Now, what do Clabberts use these pustules for?"

Rambert was vibrating in their seat, but didn't move, visibly struggling very hard not to put up their hand. Apart from them, though, the room was fairly motionless.

"Potter." 

Harry jumped at being addressed so suddenly. Ah, just like the old days. "Yes, sir?" he said, unable to keep the dripping sound of saltiness from the word 'sir'. 

"What do Clabberts use their pustules for, Potter?"

"Not much, I bet. They're not exactly expert Potioneers," Harry replied.

The class began to whisper and giggle. Snape looked absolutely livid. "Your insolence was cute when you were a child, Potter," he snapped. "Now, it is unbefitting and insufferable."

A part of Harry knew he should pipe down and just answer the question, but he didn't actually know the answer, and it was also pretty fun to get a rise out of Snape. "I'm touched you thought I was cute."

More laughter echoed through the classroom.

"Dodging the question, Potter? It's no wonder they kicked you out of the Auror Office. Your Potions knowledge is miserable, and hardly befitting someone in your field."

This time, it was a chorus of "ooooo"s that rushed through the seated students as they watched the scene unfold before them. Harry felt the heat rush to his cheeks. Perhaps he had bitten off more than he could chew - but being embarrassed only seemed to make him feel bolder.

"I'm only here because my Potions professor didn't grade my O.W.L.s fairly." Harry leaned back in his chair and tapped a finger on his chin. "Hang on, who was that professor, again? It's on the tip of my tongue…"

Snape paced forward, then backward, and his fists clenched at his sides. "You received the grade that was accurate for your ability. Perhaps you were just used to being… coddled, Chosen One." His voice was dripping with venom and ridicule. 

"Sure, my grade was so accurate that every other professor, including the Headmaster, just ignored it, yeah."

The classroom was, evidently, beginning to understand why Harry was there. Everyone was talking in low tones, gossiping away. 

Snape made a clicking noise with his tongue and fell silent, but his gaze - full of the same hatred Harry remembered from the first time he'd ever seen the man in the Great Hall - spoke on his behalf. The class slowly began to quiet down, as though the coldness from Snape's glare was freezing their tongues over. Students glanced between Harry and Snape, some wearing frightened expressions, others looking more curious. Harry knew he was on thin ice, and he could already feel cracks forming beneath his feet. 

Finally, Snape spoke, ignoring the tension that threatened to snap around them all. "Don't think you are too old for detention, Mr. Potter. If you want to act like a child, I will treat you like one." Not allowing Harry any space to respond, he turned to face the rest of the class and continued his lesson as though nothing had happened. "These pustules flash red whenever Clabberts sense danger approaching. It is for this reason that Clabbert pustules are useful for…"

As Snape droned on and on, Harry tuned him out. He had a feeling he was going to regret getting a rise out of the professor so quickly. At the same time, though, hadn't things always been this way? Strangely, it comforted him - just a little - to think that even after years of not seeing each other, this dynamic just came naturally to them. How it would affect the rest of the classes he had to attend, though, remained to be seen. 

"Just 9 more months," Harry thought to himself. "Just 9 more months." 

\----

"Severus, do calm down."

"I will do no such thing. Minerva, that man is a menace. He disrupted my class and turned my students against me."

"Don't give him so much credit. I'm sure you do that all on your own."

"This is not a joking matter."

"What has he even done?"

"He talks back, has no regard for punctuality, and encourages insolence from other students through his own rudeness."

"So he is the same student that he always has been. What were you expecting?"

"I do not want him here."

"And he does not want to be here, I assume."

"Sometimes I believe that man was put on this earth specifically to torture me."

"Oh, don't feel so bad, Severus. Maybe he feels the same way about you."

\----

Harry was early for his next Potions class. All the students were gathered outside the classroom entrance, chatting away. Some of the conversation died down when he approached, but he supposed that was to be expected. 

Taking up a spot of wall behind everyone else, Harry looked around. He wasn't sure if he should try to make friends. After all, these people were all 17 years old, and he was more than 10 years their senior. 

"You're Harry Potter, right?"

As it turned out, Harry didn't need to make an effort to make friends. When you were the odd one out, curious others would come up to you - as evidenced by the Hufflepuff now sidling up to Harry with a hand outstretched. Harry recognized them as the overly eager student who had been sitting next to him before.

"Yeah, um… yeah." Harry reached out to shake hands with them. "Sorry, I'm not great with names."

"You probably heard Rambert, but that's my last name and super formal." The student flashed a grin. "My name's Coy!"

"Coy?" Harry asked. "As in -"

"Don't bother! They've heard every pun about that name under the sun!"

Harry turned his head to see a group of three students approaching them. Leading the way, the student who spoke was a very tall Gryffindor girl with long, sweeping black hair that flowed well past her waist. Behind her strode a stockily built Gryffindor grinning wide and swinging his arms around, while a nervous-looking Hufflepuff in a hijab brought up the rear.

"Oh, you ruin my fun," Coy pouted.

The girl smiled and brushed some of her hair out of her face before reaching her fist out to Harry for him to bump. "Kimora."

"Harry," Harry replied.

"Yeah, we know," said the stocky Gryffindor with a cocky smirk. He moved to get a handshake. "Damian."

"And I'm Sakinah," said the hijab-clad Hufflepuff.

Harry smiled. "You know, when I was still going here, houses were pretty segregated."

Kimora let out a sharp laugh. "We've heard the horror stories."

"I can't imagine," Sakinah whispered. 

"You should join us for lunch," Coy offered. "Then you'll meet our Ravenclaw friend."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "No Slytherins?"

"It's kinda hard to get one from every house," Damian remarked. "But like, we try. We hang out with a group of Slytherins sometimes, a couple times a week."

"They tend to be a little clique-y," Coy said with a cheeky grin. "Old habits die hard, eh?"

"But they're really trying!" Sakinah piped up.

"Right." The idea of a group of Slytherins spending time with other houses willingly was, frankly, a pretty novel thought to Harry. Not a bad thing at all, just… different.

The door to the Potions classroom swung open and students began to file in. 

"We better get going before old grumpypants gets his wand in a knot," Kimora smirked.

Harry followed as the group of four led the way to the class. Coy fell into step beside him as the other three walked ahead. 

"Speaking of which, what's your connection to Professor Snape?" Coy asked suddenly.

Harry glanced at them. "What?"

"You guys seemed to have some pretty nasty history."

"Do we?" Harry frowned. "I thought Snape would be that way with tons of students."

Coy's eyes widened as they got to their seats in the back of the class. "No way!"

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure!" Coy exclaimed. "He's a bit of a meanie, sure, but-"

"A _meanie_?" Harry said incredulously.

Coy ignored him and carried own. "But he doesn't, like, _hate_ us or anything."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. This didn't sound anything like the Severus Snape he remembered. 

"So, what happened between you guys?" Coy pressed.

"Good morning, class," Snape said, emerging from a corner of the room. All conversation stopped short and died away as he paced to the front of the class. 

Coy gave Harry a meaningful look that seemed to suggest their conversation wasn't over. Harry was tempted to roll his eyes, but Coy was a kid. He wasn't going to be too harsh on them.

Snape's eyes fell right on Harry. "Ah, Mr. Potter. I see you've decided to return."

Harry couldn't resist glaring at him. "Don't worry, Professor, I didn't come here for you."

Coy looked at Harry as if he'd gone mental. He supposed most students wouldn't dare to talk back to Snape this way, especially unprovoked. At least in the last class, Snape had pretty much initiated the sharp exchanges. This time, Harry was the one inviting it. Still, as nervous as the students were, they enjoyed the spectacle of it, as evidenced by scattered chuckles.

Snape kept his expression perfectly impassive, but Harry didn't miss the slight twitching of his eyelid before his face fell still. He didn't catch all things, but his Auror training had somewhat helped his observation skills. "Well, I'm glad you are settling in, Potter. And making friends that suit your level of maturity."

"They _are_ really mature kids, yeah," Harry said. He tried to maintain the same calm and relaxed demeanour as Snape, but that didn't come as naturally to him. It wasn't his fault he wasn't some repressed, closed-off, poorly-adjusted Potions professor. 

"You are right for once, Potter," Snape responded, voice carefully measured and intentionally indifferent. "They _are_ quite mature. I suppose you aren't befriending those of your maturity after all."

Harry felt a flare of anger rise in his stomach. He clenched his teeth together, biting it back down. Apparently, this short moment of silence was all Snape needed to move on with the class and pretend nothing had happened.

"Today, we will be brewing a Mopsus Potion," Snape began. "Who can tell me what it is named after?"

Coy's hand shot straight up into the air.

"Yes, Rambert?"

"Mopsus, a Seer from Greek mythology, rival to Calchas, with evidence of his existence first appearing on a shield strap dating between 600 and 575 BC in Olympia, and -"

"Thank you, Rambert," Snape interrupted. "Knowledge is power, but there is wisdom in knowing which knowledge is relevant and which isn't."

Coy fell silent, looking chastised, but they also had a mild expression of awe on their face, as though Snape's words were unbelievably wise and valuable to them. "Yes, sir."

"Now, unless Rambert was the only person paying attention to the last lecture," Snape continued, "I hope someone else can tell me what the Mopsus Potion does."

There was silence for a while, then Snape's eyes fell on Harry. Harry gritted his teeth again. He shouldn't even be here. This wasn't fair at all. 

"Potter, do you know the answer?"

Harry shook his head, not trusting himself to keep his temper in check if he spoke. 

Snape smirked, looking ready to say something biting and cruel. Harry felt his brain start to whirl, preparing potential comebacks.

"P-p-please, sir."

Snape and Harry both glanced in the direction of the voice at the same time. It was Sakinah, raising a very shaky hand. Harry caught a flash of a surprised look crossing Snape's face before it returned to being neutral.

"Yes, Ms. Sakinah?"

"I-I-I kn-know the ans-s-swer," Sakinah stammered.

Snape nodded once. "Well?"

"I-I-It lets the dr-drinker… gain… tele-tele-telekine-netic p-powers."

That's when Snape did something Harry had never seen before - and judging by the quiet gasp from Coy, it wasn't a usual sight for these students either. He _smiled_. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but the change in his face was beyond dramatic. It was as though all the years and years of tiredness, bad experiences, and anger melted away from him. His thin lips turned upwards, and he seemed… nice, almost. Like someone you'd want to get to know.

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts just in time to hear what Snape said next. "Excellent, Ms. Sakinah. 10 points to Hufflepuff."

Sakinah looked embarrassed and quickly ducked her head down, but she straightened up in her seat at the same time, taking on a marginally more confident stance.

"Very well. Now, who can tell me an ingredient from this potion?"

"Ashwinder eggs?" called Kimora. 

"Manners, Ms. Yong," Snape snapped. "You raise your hand when you want to answer a question, and then you wait to be called."

Kimora openly rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything back. 

"You may not like rules, Ms. Yong, but they are the only things standing between us and animals," Snape continued. "And, to respond to your answer, that is incorrect. Who can tell me what Ashwinder eggs are actually used for?"

Coy's hand was up in the air again. Snape glanced around, sighed, and nodded. "Proceed, Rambert."

"Felix Felicis, and love potions!" Coy exclaimed.

"Good. Now, let us proceed to brew this potion." Snape waved his wand and the directions to brew the potion in question appeared on the blackboard. "Ready your cauldrons and gather your ingredients."

Noise filled the classroom as students got up to get what they needed. Harry, for some reason, felt quite out of it, as though he was stunned. All he could think about was Snape's smile. Who even knew the man was capable of that?

"You alright?" Coy asked him, trying to get him to stand and go to the Potions racks.

"Huh?" Harry was having trouble being present. His mind was floating away, caught on that small upturning of lips.

"Potter!" Snape's angry shout knocked Harry right out of his stupor. "Get to work! You slacked off before, and you will not slack off now!"

Usually, Harry would be ready with a sharp retort - but not this time. He still felt dazed. As he stumbled forward to get the ingredients he needed, he cast what he hoped was a casual glance back at Snape. Call it professional curiosity - the investigative drive that fuelled his Auror senses - but he wanted, just for a moment, to see that smile again.

\----

"You seem stressed out, Severus."

"Do I?"

"By any chance, does this have something to do with Mr. Potter?"

"Minerva, I have had it up to here with the boy."

"He is hardly a boy anymore, Severus."

"He certainly acts like one."

"Perhaps it is just his boyish charm."

"Excuse me, Minerva? Have you lost your mind? Have you lost your brilliance to age?"

"Some of us stay young at heart longer than others, Severus."

"What are you implying?"

"Perhaps if you didn't insist on making yourself seem several decades older, you may be able to find a date for once."

"This is quite uncalled for, Minerva. And very unprofessional of you."

"Oh _please_ , Severus. You and I have been friends for such a long time. I doubt those with purely professional relationships get drunk together and discuss the fittest bachelors the Wizarding World has to offer."

"You cannot prove any of that."

"I need prove nothing. The memories are fresh in your mind."

"That's enough of that, Minerva."

"Very well. I won't press you any longer, Severus. Carry on."

"You cannot dismiss me, Minerva. I dismissed myself."

"I dismiss everyone. I'm the Headmistress."

"I despise you."

"Lovelier compliments have never been spoken."

\----

Harry was beginning to get used to going to classes. It would never feel quite right, but there was a sort of rhythm to them that Harry could let himself get used to. Arrive, chat with students, answer some of Snape's questions wrong, have a heated debate with Snape over those wrong answers, try his best to catch a glimpse of another rare Snape smile… it was getting quite predictable, actually.

One thing that had changed was that the other students were warming up to him. Curious about who he was, his life, and his work, they began to crowd around him before and after class, flooding him with questions. "What's it like, being an Auror?" "Were you really the best Seeker in the whole school?" "Did you really kill Lord Voldemort?" 

And of course, there were the million-dollar questions that all of them seemed to be curious about: "What was Snape like back then?" "Is it true he was a Death Eater?" "Why do you two hate each other so much?"

Harry didn't really mind the questions, but he preferred the types about his escapades to the types that had to do with Snape. He just felt… uncomfortable talking about the Potions professor. He wasn't too sure why, but maybe it was because the Snape he remembered seemed so different from the Snape he saw now. Were they even the same people at all?

There was also the fact that most of what he had to say about old Snape was negative, and new Snape didn't seem to deserve any of that kind of speech. He was… nice. Good, even, to his students. Strict, of course, and on the harsh side, but also patient where it counted.

Harry couldn't shake the desire to find out more about the Professor. His history of being far too nosy for his own good combined with his career-driven investigative skills made him so curious about Snape that he could hardly stand it. 

As Snape entered the classroom, Harry found himself straining to catch any glimpse of an uncommon expression. Snape's eyes swept the classroom, and there were quick flickers of fondness in his eyes as he observed certain students - or at least, that's what Harry thought, from the split-second shifts he could catch.

"Today we will be brewing an Oculus Potion," Snape announced. "I hope you paid attention during your lecture in our last class. One of you, tell me what this potion does."

Coy, predictably, raised their hand first. 

"Yes, Rambert?"

"To restore eyesight!"

"Good." Snape nodded. "Now, what curse is commonly countered with this potion?"

Damian, sitting in front of Harry, raised his hand.

"Mr. Aurelio," Snape said.

"The Conjunctivitis Curse."

"Good. And why is this potion so crucial?"

There was a very short silence, and Harry was fairly sure someone would answer if just a couple more seconds passed. But, of course, Snape wasn't going to let that happen. 

"Potter! You have an advantage for this question, I'm certain."

Harry sighed. He _did_ try to pay attention during lectures, of course. But he'd never had very good luck with being put on the spot. "Because vision is important?"

"An observation that only a genius can draw," Snape replied without batting an eye, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "No, Potter. If you had been paying attention, you would know that this potion is so popularly used because there has been no cure found for eyesight ailments in the Wizarding world. Hence, your need for those unfashionable glasses."

Harry made a show of looking Snape up and down. "Are _you_ really going to give me a lecture on fashion?"

A few titters erupted from the front of the class. Snape's expression soured. Harry felt a little bad - truly uncharacteristic for him. Why would he feel bad about tormenting Snape, who had lived to torment him? Anyway, the professor shouldn't have dished it if he couldn't take it.

"I would warn you to tread carefully, Potter, but it seems you have a history of running directly into danger," Snape said. His tone was flat and monotonous, but no one could miss the whisper of a threat behind those words. 

Harry crossed his arms. "I think that, on the scale of dangerous things, you're not particularly high up on the list, sir."

There were a couple of laughs from around the classroom, but not quite as many. From around where Harry was sitting, the air felt thick with discomfort, and Coy threw him a nervous glance. 

Harry was half-expecting Snape to burst into flames, or maybe start steaming from his ears. But, instead, there was another new expression on his face - a smirk. A corner of his lips quirked upwards on one side. It was not a warm look - it was cold. Cruel. Harry could see a hint of former Death Eater in that single gesture. It was the kind of smirk one would wear if they were about to slaughter a bunch of innocent people.

It should have been frightening, or at least a good warning to Harry. But all he felt was ever-mounting curiosity. He had never seen that expression from Snape before, and he wanted so badly to see where it might lead.

"You had better hope, Potter," Snape said, "that you will brew today's potion perfectly."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, he felt a quick, tight grip on his wrist. Coy was grasping his forearm, a frightened look in their eyes. Almost imperceptibly, they shook their head. 

Whether Harry was planning on listening to Coy or not didn't matter - he had been distracted for long enough for Snape to push forward with the lesson. That was the thing about Snape. If you didn't grab every tiny opportunity you had with him, it would slip by so quickly, like sand through fingers.

Snape was now waving his wand. The instructions for the Oculus potion appeared on the blackboard. "Gather your materials and begin," he said, and the orderly state of the class erupted into disarray as everyone rushed to the storage cupboards.

Coy pulled Harry, who was still feeling huffy from his exchange with the Professor, over to the closest shelf. Once the commotion surrounding them was loud enough, Coy leaned in to whisper to Harry. "You have to be careful with him, Harry."

"Really?" Harry said, shaking his head. "He gets like that all the time, I'm sure."

Coy went wide-eyed. "No, never," they said. "He says harsh things now and then, but never like that. And never so -"

"Scarily?" Kimora pushed her way into the conversation. "Yeah, nah. Snape doesn't get like that. He's strict, not frightening."

"Sakinah seems pretty frightened of him," Harry shot back.

"Not of _him_ , of speaking up in class," Coy replied. "I mean it, Harry. I'm kinda freaked out."

"We'd better go," Damian said, appearing on Coy's left. "Almost everyone's back at their seats already." He grabbed a few bottles from the cupboard and hurried away.

Harry led the way back to his and Coy's desk. He propped up his cauldron - old, stained, and obviously very used from his Hogwarts days - while Coy arranged ingredients in front of them, meticulously turning them so their labels all faced the same way. 

Harry grabbed a bottle and began to shake it. Coy grabbed his arm again. 

"What?" Harry hissed.

"Wormwood, not ground unicorn horn," Coy corrected him, tugging the bottle out of Harry's hand and replacing it with the one they'd been shaking. "Honestly, how did you survive when you were here?"

Harry grinned. "You know, I have a friend you'd probably get along really well with."

"Is that babbling I hear?" Snape called from the front of the classroom.

Harry wanted to say something snippy, but remembering Coy and Kimora's words, he decided against it. Glancing up to where Snape was, he absentmindedly tipped the contents of the bottle into his cauldron in small amounts. Snape seemed focused on helping one of the students who was sitting in front and scratching the top of his head in confusion. Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, but Snape's patience was fascinating. Had he ever shown that much even-temperedness before?

A sudden flash of colour nearly made Harry drop the whole bottle. He looked down to see the potion has become green. He stoppered the wormwood container and began to stir the contents of the cauldron. He tried to put his heart into it, but his mind soon started to wander again, back to thinking about Snape. What had caused such a dramatic change in the man? And why was he still a total shithead to Harry? Then again, it wasn't as if Harry hadn't been encouraging it… 

Another changed colour brought Harry back to the present. His potion was now purple. He looked at the blackboard to figure out what to do next. A quick look in Coy's direction indicated that the bright student was already several steps ahead - the liquid in their cauldron was a stunning yellow. 

"Am I doing this right?" Harry asked Coy.

"Hey! No cheating," Coy grinned, and Harry figured that he should count his blessings. If Coy was any more like Hermione, they would have given Harry a sharp talking to instead.

The minutes ticked by as Harry tried to multitask, making his potion while keeping a close eye on Snape. The Professor wasn't revealing any more unusual emotions, which was infinitely frustrating to Harry - and it only made him pay more and more attention to Snape and less to his work.

It was at around this point that a sizzling noise started to bubble forth from Harry's cauldron. He quickly looked into the pot, glancing between it and the blackboard to see what step he was on now. His potion was a bright blue, so all he had to do was find the portion that matched. But there was no mention of the colour blue at all in the instructions.

Coy, returning from the storage cupboard with a vial in hand, stopped short when they saw Harry's work. "Oh," they whispered. "Oh no."

And that was when the cauldron exploded. Screeches of shock burst out from all corners of the classroom as students hurriedly ducked for cover, knocking over their books and bottles in the process. Harry instinctively threw up a Shield Charm, saving himself and Coy from what would have been blistering hot bits of possibly toxic liquid. 

Snape took a step forward from his desk, and the commotion died down into a hush. He walked slowly, menacingly, with all the purpose and threat of a predator advancing on prey, towards Harry and Coy's desk. For a while, nothing was said, and the Potions master merely glared down - had he always been this tall? - at Harry and his mess of a potion.

Then, with a voice somehow both barely discernible and deafeningly clear, Snape spoke. "Is anyone hurt?" he asked.

The class was silent.

"Good. Now," Snape's sharp stare pierced Harry's eyes. "What went wrong here, Potter?"

Harry honestly had no idea. His right hand, still holding his wand aloft with a Shield Charm at full power, was shaking. Madam Pomfrey would have probably been able to patch him and Coy up if he hadn't reacted in time, but he could only imagine the pain and possible side effects of being harmed by such a badly brewed potion. That would have been what an innocent and brilliant 17-year-old would have had to bear with - or several 17-year-olds, if any of these Seventh years hadn't dodged in time. And, worse still, Harry couldn't even begin to guess where he had gone wrong.

Snape turned his head to Coy. "How about you, Rambert?" he said. "Any ideas what went wrong?"

Coy nodded slowly. "The…" They swallowed. "The stewed mandrake, sir. It was added before the potion was stirred."

"Astute inference," Snape said. "And almost entirely accurate. But it was not just that. I believe that Mr. Potter here also did not add a sufficient amount of crystalized water."

Crystalized water? Had that been part of the instructions? Harry didn't dare to look back at the board to check. 

"In fact, it may be accurate to say that it was not added at all," continued Snape. He drew his wand and flicked it, and the remnants of the blue potion vanished from the desk, the walls, the floor, the ceiling, splash after splash disappearing with a barely audible whisper of magic. "Settle down," he then said. "The crisis is over. You may return to your seats. Take extra care to follow the instructions this time as you complete your potions. If anything is broken, fix it yourself or report it to me."

Coy awkwardly sat back down, refusing to meet Harry's eye.

"That was extremely careless of you, Mr. Potter," Snape said. "What made you neglect the clearly written instructions? Have your glasses lost their strength, or have you managed to dull your vision even further?"

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Usually, he wouldn't be at a loss for words like this, but right now, guilt was setting in heavily. 

Snape made a clicking noise with his tongue. Harry watched those thin lips open and close with the motion. "Well?"

"I, uh…" Harry looked away. "I wasn't really paying attention, much."

"Interesting confession," Snape replied. "No smart tongue this time, Potter? Has a toad stolen it?" 

Harry would never admit it to the teacher, but he was ashamed. He'd endangered the life of an entire class of students, all because he'd wanted to… _lookAuror_ , right? Wasn't his job to keep people safe, not put them further in harm's way?

Harry didn't make any more headway on the potion as class drew to a close. His cauldron, haphazardly repaired with a wave of his wand, remained empty as Snape collected the finished potions from the other students. Coy gave Harry an apologetic and uncomfortable glance as they left the classroom with their friends. Sakinah threw Harry a smile as she shuffled out the door, but it didn't do anything to make Harry feel better.

Snape finished organizing the labelled and stoppered bottles and turned to Harry. "Well, Potter. Here we are. I cannot say that I am surprised, but I certainly am disappointed."

"Alright, no need to rub it in," Harry replied. He could feel some of his old spirit flooding back in, likely because everyone he felt guilty for putting in harm's way was no longer in the room. "I get it. I was irresponsible. I fucked up."

"Language, Potter," Snape hissed. "You may not be an official Hogwarts student, but as long as you are in my classroom, you will follow my rules."

Harry shrugged. "Then let's take this right outside of the room, so we'll be out of your jurisdiction."

Snape glared at him. "That won't be necessary." He folded his arms, and Harry watched the motion curiously. It was a very relaxed movement for one so defensive. "You will stay back now for detention."

"Right now?" Harry asked. He tried not to scowl like a petulant child, but it wasn't working out at that moment.

"Yes, Potter, right now. You can clean some of my older stores which cannot be safely touched by spells and charms."

"I can't," Harry said.

"Excuse me?" 

Harry noticed that tension was flooding into Snape's stance, causing his shoulders to square and the muscles in his arms to flex ever so slightly. These didn't feel like the sorts of things Harry needed to notice, but he wasn't going to blame his Auror skills for making these things obvious to him. "I can't," he repeated.

Snape uncrossed his arms, and they fell to his sides, fists clenched. "Well, you don't have much of a choice, do you, Potter? Unless you want me to flunk you."

Harry sighed. It wasn't that he was trying to be difficult. Really, he wasn't. But today just simply didn't work for him. "Look, sir. I'm an adult. I have errands, you know? Responsibilities. And unfortunately, I can't use 'I was in detention' as an excuse anymore." 

Snape sneered in disbelief. "And, pray tell, what errands do you have to run today?"

"I need to meet the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"And why do you need to do that?"

"I need to give her my first monthly progress report."

Snape sneered again, but this time he sounded more amused. "Very well. I have no interest in quarrelling with the Ministry. After your next class, you will stay back for detention."

\----

"My, my, you look tired, Severus!"

"Ah, Pomona. There was an… accident in my classroom."

"It wouldn't be the fault of one Harry Potter, would it?"

"Alas."

"Oh, dear me! I thought as much."

"Have you been gossiping with Minerva?"

"Never gossiping, my dear Severus! Only speaking the truth!"

"And what is this truth?"

"That you've been awfully stressed out since he came here to study."

"I cannot deny that."

"Must you really focus so much on him, Severus?"

"You don't understand, Pomona. If I do not constantly keep an eye on him, he will damage something."

"Don't tell me you did this before, too, when he was just a young lad!"

"No. I suppose not. But I learned his tricks then, and now I am out of touch. He has changed in many ways. I must stay vigilant."

"So much drama!"

"Drama implies an overreaction. That is not what this is."

"Whatever you say, Severus. Whatever you say!"

\----

Director Proudfoot's table was piled high with paperwork when Harry reached her office. Her door was open, so Harry didn't have to knock, but he wasn't sure how to announce himself, and he wasn't sure if she'd noticed him.

"Mr. Potter," she said, the sharpness and brevity of her tone nearly making Harry jump. Without looking up from what she was writing, she gestured at the chair in front of her. "Sit. Close the door behind you."

Harry did as he was told. After several moments of silence, Director Proudfoot put her quill aside and finally looked up at him. Harry almost wished she hadn't - her sharp eyes reminded him so much of Dumbledore's in their piercing, all-seeing gaze.

"Well," she said. "Hand in your progress report."

Harry pulled out a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. It contained a few paragraphs explaining the potions he'd learned, his grades for each one, and his overall progress. He felt a little silly about writing a report like this, but if it got Director Proudfoot off his back, he'd gladly do it.

Director Proudfoot perused his messy scrawls with only some interest before she pulled out a file from her drawer. "Yes, this matches up with what Professor Snape sent in to me."

"Wait." Harry stared at the file, which she opened to reveal a much neater piece of parchment, titled _Monthly Progress Report for Harry James Potter: Month 1_ in a stout cursive that Harry recognized as Snape's writing. 

"Wait for what, Mr. Potter?" Director Proudfoot asked, a slight mocking tone to her voice.

Harry opened his mouth and closed it twice before finding the words he wants to say. "You asked Sna- Professor Snape for a progress report, too?"

"Of course," the Director responded. "It would be wholly irresponsible of me to simply take your word for it on your reports."

Harry felt his heart sink. "So, how bad is it?"

"Pardon?"

"Professor Snape's progress report on me. How bad is it?"

Director Proudfoot arched one of her eyebrows. "Were you not paying attention, Potter? I said your progress report matched his."

"It _what_?" Harry tried to keep himself from sounding too surprised, but there was no way for him not to. It was the twist of the century - to him, at least. 

"Why? Did you have reason to believe it would be different?"

Harry should have probably controlled himself a little more. "No, I… uh…" He shook his head. "No. I just… Well, Professor Snape has never been very fond of me, Director."

She gave him a curt nod. "Then, we can conclude that his personal feelings do not affect his professionalism." She shuffled the reports in her hands. "You did include some embellishments in your report. But you were honest in admitting that you are struggling to perform well in your classes, a fact which Professor Snape confirms."

"He confirms that?" Harry felt a little sheepish, and it was embarrassing to have to listen to this stuff from your own boss. "I'm guessing he wouldn't want me in his classes anymore, then?"

"Quite the contrary, Mr. Potter." The Director slid Snape's report over to him. "He also wrote that your high level of skill in other Magical areas suggests you merely need to work a little harder to achieve satisfactory results."

Harry picked the report up and skimmed it, frowning. He saw the line the Director was quoting, but his eye was caught by the sentence following it: _I look forward to teaching Mr. Potter in more of these classes._ Surely that had to be a lie. But why would Snape lie to a Ministry official? The rest of the tone of his report was curt and businesslike, and this casual warmth would not be missed if he had simply not included it. Or was he doing this to spite Harry, in case Harry complained against him?

Director Proudfoot took the report out of Harry's hands and placed it back into its file. "You're dismissed, Mr. Potter. I will see you again next month."

\----

"What are you writing there, Severus?"

"Good evening to you too, Minerva."

"Oh, you Slytherins and your manners. Well, what is that?"

"I am writing the next monthly progress report on Potter."

"Already? Isn't it just a week into the second month?"

"I would not want to forget crucial details."

"An admirable effort."

"Do I detect a hint of hidden meaning there, Minerva?"

"I must confess, Severus, that I am quite surprised at the fact that you are putting any effort into teaching Mr. Potter at all. I thought you hated the man."

"I do, I assure you. I merely am capable of separating my personal opinions from my work. As any professional should."

"Oh, what balderdash."

"Excuse me?"

"You, Severus Snape, King of Holding Grudges? Capable of separating personal and professional thought? What utter nonsense."

"It is _not_ nonsense. Perhaps I've grown and changed over -"

"Severus, just last month you were intentionally mixing up the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's Wideye Potions with Sleeping Draughts."

"He was a Blood-Purist, Minerva."

"And if you had reported it to me directly instead of wasting your time on petty grudges, he would have been fired immediately instead of two days ago."

"You thought those petty grudges were quite amusing, once you knew who he was. You laughed for ten minutes."

"That is beside the point, Severus."

"Yes, what was the point, again?"

"That you cannot separate personal and business matters, and you have never been able to do so without letting some hint of your real feelings slip by."

"And what, in this situation, would be my real feelings, Minerva?"

"I do not know, Severus. But I intend to find out, one way or another, if you won't tell me."

"And I shan't."

\----

Harry was absolutely dreading detention with Snape. His decision to join his classmates for lunch before Potions today was just making the anticipation worse, but he'd done it in hopes of getting some information about Snape out of them.

"Cheer up, Harry!" Coy grinned. They were sitting on Harry's right, shoving forkfuls of pasta into their mouth. 

"Have you never had Detention before?" Sakinah whispered. She was sitting opposite Harry, taking very small bites out of a pie.

"You kidding?" Kimora grinned. She was also sitting on the other side of the table, next to Sakinah. The two appeared to be best friends, despite their differences in personality. "He's Harry Potter! I heard he got into tons of trouble as a student here." She took a huge, messy bite out of a large chicken drumstick. "Like a true Gryffindor," she added with her mouth full. 

"That's not true, is it?" asked a wide-eyed, bespectacled boy with a huge afro of wiry black hair. This was Leonardo, the Ravenclaw friend Coy had told Harry about before.

"I, uh…" Harry wasn't sure how much of a good example he should be setting, but lying hadn't ever really been his strong suit. "It's true, unfortunately."

"That's not unfortunate, that's pretty cool," Damian said. "I could never, though."

"What? Really?" Harry looked at the muscular, buff boy with biceps straining through his Gryffindor robes and squinted.

"He looks tough, but he's a gentle giant," Coy laughed.

"That reminds me, wasn't there a clan of giants known for being really gentle?" Leonardo said suddenly, looking up dramatically from his plate.

"I - what? What does that have to do with anything we were talking about?" Kimora blinked.

Leonardo wasn't paying attention to her. "I gotta find out!" he exclaimed, and he leapt over his seat and rushed off, stuffing things back into his book bag as he went.

Harry watched as he vanished around the corner. "Where's he going?"

"Library, probably," Coy replied.

Kimora snorted. "Nerd." She looked at Harry and rolled her eyes. "Ravenclaws, am I right?"

"Anyway, don't worry about the detention, Harry," Coy said, smiling as they pushed their plate aside. "It's just a couple of hours. And Professor Snape's not horrible."

"See, that's not what I remember of him at all," Harry said.

"What do you remember of him, huh?" Damian asked. He, too, had finished his meal, and he was now doing homework with a bright pink quill pen that stood out loudly against the brown and gold colour scheme of the Great Hall. "You're always dodging that question."

Well, not anymore. "He was pretty harsh back when I was studying here. Evil, almost. He bullied some of my friends and was nice to his own house only."

"That's nuts," Kimora interjected. "He's great most of the time now. Bit of a stickler for rules but teachers have to be, the killjoys."

"Maybe this isn't the real Snape, and a fake Snape replaced him," Coy said, tapping their chin.

"No!" Sakinah exclaimed. "That couldn't be, right?"

Kimora rolled her eyes again. "Ugh, stop being adorable."

"Maybe Snape just… doesn't like you, Harry," Coy mused. "You guys do seem to have some issues."

"Not that you ever want to tell us about them," Kimora added.

"I can tell you guys, but…" Harry trailed off. They didn't seem like the type of teens to start spreading gossip and rumours, but you could never really tell.

"We'll keep it between us, right guys?" Damian said.

Kimora groaned. "That doesn't sound suspicious at all, yeah."

Coy sighed. "You don't have to tell us if you're not comfortable with it, but honestly Harry, we're super curious."

Harry looked at all their hopeful faces and found himself unable to say no. "Alright. Alright, but you tell no one, got it?"

Everyone at the table nodded.

Harry took a deep breath. "When Snape was younger, he was kind of in love with my mum. And she didn't share those feelings. So he held a grudge against me, but also protected me because of it. It's complicated."

There was silence for a few moments before questions erupted.

"You're telling me Snape was a total fuckboy?" Kimora said.

"D-d-do you think he still has that grudge now?" Sakinah stammered.

"Wait, Snape likes women too?" Coy gasped.

"Hang on a minute," Harry said. "One at a time. Also, Coy, what do you mean he likes women _too_?"

Coy looked at the rest of the table and shrugged. "I guess we just assumed he was gay."

"Yeah, he's been pretty damn open about the fact that he likes dudes," Damian added.

"It wasn't good of us to presume…" Sakinah whispered, her voice fading away uncertainty. 

"You just wanted a teacher as gay as you are," Kimora jibed, a sly smile on her lips.

Sakinah nodded shyly. 

"So Snape likes men?" Harry asked, trying to process this information. He wasn't sure why this detail was sending him reeling. Had it just come too far out of left field? Why was he feeling so flushed?

"Yeah," Damian said, eyeing Harry carefully. "You cool with that, right man?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Of course," Harry said, words tripping over each other. "I'm gay and all that."

Damian grinned. "Good. Just checking."

"The ally we all deserve," Kimora smirked, leaning over to give him a fist bump.

Coy was looking pretty pleased. "That means he's like me!"

Kimora glanced around. "Before I make a corny joke about how I prefer cake, we should get going. I don't want to join Harry in detention today for being late, of all things. If you're gonna get detention, you might as well do something big."

Harry chuckled as the others exchanged banter with Kimora about her rule-breaking tendencies, but he didn't feel the humour reach anywhere past the sides of his lips. The detention he would have to sit through was still weighing on his mind - and he was no closer to understanding Snape than he had been before. 

Then again, maybe this one-on-one time with the professor was just what he needed to learn more. He'd have to be careful, though, and make sure to catch everything. If he blinked at the wrong time, he'd miss what he was looking for, and it'd slip by. It was like trying to keep water in your hands. He supposed it was time to really put his Auror training to good use.

\----

"Severus, is this Mr. Potter's name on a detention slip?"

"That's right, Minerva."

"Why are you giving the man detention, for the love of Godric?"

"He tests my patience and his lack of focus in the classroom may be a hazard to others." 

"This isn't another one of your grudges, is it?"

"He blew up an entire cauldron."

"Oh, very well, then. I hope you two don't get up to anything terrible. I'd hate to have to clean up the mess of a duel."

"I doubt there will be a duel, Minerva. And I thought you were the less dramatic of the two of us."

"I cannot stress enough how little of an exaggeration it is when I say that you and Mr. Potter cannot be trusted in a room together."

"Ye of little faith."

"We'll see who's right."

"Of course, the answer is that I am."

"Oh please, Severus. When have I ever been wrong?"

"There is a first time for everything, Minerva."

"We shall see. We shall see."

\----

Detention had never been fun - and it wasn't supposed to be, sure - but Harry couldn't remember hating it when he was a student as much as he did now. Each bottle of sensitive potion or its ingredients had to be meticulously dusted and placed back on the shelf exactly as it had been before. Dust piled up on the floor beneath Harry, tickling his nose.

After scrutinizing Harry's every move for the first ten or so vials, Snape stepped out of the storeroom to prepare to mark essays, leaving him with nothing but a scathing remark about Harry's incompetence. This meant that Harry couldn't really see Snape very easily, so he had to peek around the corner of the storeroom door to watch him. 

It was interesting seeing the Potions professor relaxed and in his… natural habitat. Though Harry noticed some tension in his hands and shoulders that showed he wasn't his complete normal self, probably due to Harry's presence, the teacher had a rather different way about him. He was comfortable and at home in the Dungeons, even outside of classes. 

Harry took note of how Snape furrowed his brow as he read through student essays, occasionally letting slip a look of approval or an eye-roll of exasperation. He had a habit of dipping his quill exactly twice in the ink bottle beside him in quick, efficient motions, and he didn't ever bother sweeping his raven black hair away from his face, even when it fell over his eyes. Harry wasn't sure what to make of these observations, but he enjoyed making them. Perhaps it simply felt good to be "investigating" something again. He'd always been too nosy for his own good, hadn't he?

Unfortunately, even the best Auror in the world wouldn't be able to make peering out of a door subtle. It wasn't long before Snape looked up, a glare already in place, a scowl on his lips. Harry's breath caught in his throat - nervousness, probably, from being spotted - and he gave the professor what he hoped was a cocky grin. 

"Unable to keep your nose out of other people's business, Potter?" Snape sneered. "Pity, you haven't changed one bit."

"I wasn't getting into your business," Harry said. "You should try not being so confrontational, sir. Not everyone's out to get you."

Snape didn't look too pleased with Harry's condescending tone. "Get back into that store room. I don't want to see your face again until you've finished cleaning."

"I wasn't looking at you to begin with," Harry said. 

"I never said you were," Snape replied. 

_Fuck._ Snape _hadn't_ mentioned that at all. All Harry had done was further implicate himself. "You said I was poking my nose into your business. Hard to do that if I'm not looking at you," Harry snapped. His hands were shaking ever so slightly. He put them behind his back.

Snape's expression turned exhausted. "Potter, I assure you that if your goal is to make me loathe your company so much that I cancel this detention, it will only make these few hours much more tedious."

"Maybe I like making things more tedious," Harry shot back.

"I know," Snape replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his left hand, quill pen twirling in his right. "Salazar help me, I know."

Harry watched the man's shoulders heave once in a sigh. The movement was fluid for someone so tense. He wondered if anyone had ever soothed the man when he was in this state. Was that possible? 

"Potter!" Snape hissed. "Go! Now!"

Harry flinched, shaken out of his thoughts. So many strange things had been floating around in his head a second ago. Being around all these potions and magical ingredients was probably messing with his head. He ducked back into the store room, but he itched to keep Snape within his view. Who knows what information he could be missing? It frustrated him so much. All he wanted to do was keep looking at the professor so he never missed anything he did again.

But… that _was_ an odd thing to want, wasn't it? Now that he thought about it, he was beginning to sound a bit like an obsessive stalker. He needed to ease off the creepiness. Not being on Auror duty was really starting to be bad for him.

Harry stuck to brushing the bottles of dust for a while, but eventually, as he finished up the remnants of one of the many racks, his curiosity built to an uncontrollable point. He picked up the last bottle on that shelf as he inched his way towards the door, pretending to brush it. Carefully, very carefully, he backed himself up against the wall and turned to look out of the door - only to find Professor Snape himself right outside it.

Harry yelped and dropped the bottle he was holding. It shattered on the ground, sending rushes of the liquid within splashing upwards onto his skin. Snape jumped backwards, whipping out his wand in the process.

"Potter!" he exclaimed. "What were you doing? What potion did you -" He bent down to peer at part of a torn label on the floor, and he gasped.

Harry could see the label was made of a very worn parchment, meaning it was probably old and valuable. He was in for it now. Snape may have been nice with his first progress report, but it was all downhill from here.

Snape whirled around to stare at Harry. Harry braced himself for the shouts, and they came. "Potter! Are you experiencing pain?"

"I didn't mean to -" Harry broke off mid-sentence. "Wait, what?"

The expected expressions of annoyance and fury were not on Snape's face - only dead seriousness. "Pain, Potter. Are you experiencing any?"

"Uh. Yeah." Harry looked down at his arm, where a small cut had gotten splashed by the potion. "It kind of burns right here on -"

"An open wound!" Snape exclaimed. He hurried to the storage shelves.

Harry stared after him, unsure of what had just happened. And that's when he felt it - dizziness. Nausea. Weakness. Harry fell backwards, slamming against the wall behind him as his knees gave out and he went toppling to the floor. His vision began to swim as he opened his mouth in an attempt to cry for help, but he couldn't hear his voice at all, so he couldn't be sure if it was working. He scrambled to grab his wand in an automatic but useless attempt at self-preservation, but his arms were too heavy, listless at his sides.

A figure approached, just a silhouette barely discernible in Harry's blurred field of view. Someone grabbed onto a part of Harry's face, and the next thing he knew, something that felt oddly like a stone was being shoved down his throat. He coughed and choked, fighting the uncomfortable intrusion, but he didn't have any strength left in him. His lungs screamed for air for one, two, three seconds, and then… 

Life flooded back into Harry's body like a wave. He gasped, his hands pushing him up off the floor. Sound rushed into his ears, too loud and too much at once, and he realized that he had been groaning in pain. He shut his mouth, embarrassed, and looked up. His vision steadied and he saw Snape staring down at him, wearing another odd and out-of-place-for-Snape expression. It looked strangely like worry, but Harry didn't think Snape would ever be worried for him.

"What did I break?" Harry asked. His voice was a croak.

Snape glanced at the mess on the floor. "Potion No 86, brewed with powdered moonstone and syrup of hellebore."

"Right," Harry said. "Super poisonous, then?"

Snape nodded. "At least some information is retained in that thick skull of yours."

Harry would have normally sent an angry quip back, but Snape's tone didn't sound antagonistic this time. Besides, the man had just saved his life, so he should probably be nice for a while. "Nothing important, was it?"

"One of the last remaining samples in the world," Snape replied.

"Oh," Harry said. "Fuck."

Snape sneered. He didn't reprimand Harry for his expletive. "Yes. 'Fuck', indeed."

There was something about Snape swearing that sounded novel to Harry's ears. He'd never heard it before and it was yet another facet to Snape for Harry to add to his memory. He sighed. "How much do I owe you for it? A billion Galleons?"

Snape straight up, brushing off his robe. "It matters not," he said. "Are you fine?"

"Me?" Harry wasn't sure what he was getting at. "Yeah. I mean, I'm not dead."

Snape gave him a satisfied look. "Then that is what matters."

"I - excuse me?" Harry wasn't sure he heard him right. "You don't care about the potion?"

"I care about it," Snape replied. "But it is an object. You are a human being. If I cannot clearly value a life over a potion, I have failed as a human being, myself." 

"I…" Harry hadn't thought of it that way before. "Thank you? I guess?"

The Potions professor crossed his arms. "Well. Though I will not needlessly punish you for the accident, I will do so for continuing to attempt to snoop on me after I explicitly told you not to."

"That's fair," Harry said weakly.

"You will have detention, again, after your next two classes," Snape said. "One to complete the cleaning task you could not complete today, and one as punishment for your lack of respect of boundaries."

Harry shakily got to his feet. He had to say something, but he couldn't think what. He tried anyway. "Professor, I -"

Snape interrupted him. "Dismissed." He turned and strode away, leaving the classroom, his essays left unmarked on the table. Harry was starting to think that no matter how much he stared at Snape, he was never going to understand him. 

\----

"How are things going, Severus?"

"Pardon, Minerva?"

"Things. Are they going well? With Mr. Potter?"

"Why do you plague me with these questions?"

"Hush, now. I am merely concerned."

"I have no need for concern."

"You have been more and more preoccupied since Mr. Potter joined your class."

"Have I?"

"You cannot deceive me, Severus. Has he been that difficult to deal with? I could call the Auror Office and-"

"No!"

"Severus!"

"I apologize. I did not mean to raise my voice."

"My, my, my. That was quite a reaction."

"I am leaving now." 

"You cannot escape my perception forever, Severus."

"I shall take my chances."

\----

The next Potions class was uneventful. Harry, still shaken from his near-death experience and the kindness that Snape had somehow shown him, brewed an acceptable potion this time. It wasn't the exact right colour, but it was close enough.

After Coy expressed surprise that Harry and Snape weren't being mean to each other today, Harry decided to tell them about what happened. Coy was hooked on every word.

"Do you think that'll make your other detentions awkward?" they asked.

"Probably," Harry said.

A couple of hours later, that proved to be true. Harry didn't dare to look out from the store room anymore, but after just two minutes spent in there, Snape decided that the best way to prevent another accident was by standing right in the small space as Harry worked.

"Do you mind?" Harry asked, trying to sound annoyed, but secretly feeling glad that he had the chance to keep the professor in his view. He wasn't going to snoop around anymore, but if Snape was standing right there watching his every move, he could return the favour. 

"I will mind if you break another bottle, Potter," Snape said coldly. 

"I won't," said Harry. "And I wouldn't have last time, either, if you -"

"I had been going to check on your progress. You, however, had been sticking your nose where it didn't belong."

Harry wanted to come up with a convoluted way to fight Snape's argument, but he remembered what happened last time he'd been here, and he recalled Snape's show of… kindness? Mercy? Fairness? Maybe he should be more grateful that Snape not only saved his life, but also thought to not skin him alive for destroying a valuable potion.

Harry angled himself so that he could see Snape out of the corner of his eye as he cleaned. The professor looked well put-together today, his black robes completely free of marks. He ran his gaze up and down the teacher, unsure of what he was looking for, but searching for it anyway. But Snape wasn't having any of that.

"I'm not going to Stun you in the back, Potter," he said, crossly. "There's no need to keep me in your vision."

"Who says I'm doing any of that?" Harry retorted. 

"No one need say what can clearly be seen."

Harry glared at him. "Look, this is just awkward, okay? After what happened last detention -"

"I find that, with most unpleasant situations, allowing them to run their course in peace works best." Snape leaned against the wall. That was a new pose - something Harry had never seen him do. He wondered how many other positions and gestures Snape performed that Harry would never witness. How could he see as many of them as possible? Was that a weird thing to want?

Harry tried to let the thoughts go. "Is the most peaceful option really standing there and getting in my personal space?"

"I don't know, Potter," Snape snapped. "What I do know is the last time you were in here alone, you came close to death."

Harry has a flashing memory of Snape leaning over him, concern written in his eyes, and he fell silent. Snape probably regretted not just letting him die. In his position, Harry might even feel the same way.

"Hey, uh…" Harry swallowed. He didn't know why, but he was nervous. "Thanks for… uh… saving me, I guess?"

Snape appeared thoroughly unimpressed. "The alternative was allowing you to die, Potter."

"Sounds like a tempting alternative," Harry said.

"I considered it, but my… murdering days are behind me," Snape replied.

This was nice. They were still being a little mean to each other, which he supposed was a given, but at least they were being pleasant. And that might have even been some humour from the stoic professor. Was he capable of telling full jokes? Harry ached to know. "Still," he said. "Just… wanted to tell you I'm grateful."

Snape waved a hand dismissively. "I have no need for gratitude. It was not for personal gain or desire, Potter. I am a teacher and I did what I had to do."

"Oh." Harry wasn't sure why that was so bad to hear. "Oh. Yeah, obviously." He turned back to the shelves as his cheeks began to burn, hoping to hide his disappointment from the professor. What had he even been expecting, anyway? For Snape to smile at him, wide, like a less grumpy person? He wasn't sure what he'd wanted from that exchange to begin with. He should have kept it to himself. Snape and he would never be friends.

Friends? Is that what Harry wanted with Snape? A friendship? It didn't feel like the wrong idea, but it didn't feel quite right, either. 

Snape heaved one of his trademark gloomy sighs. "Alright, Potter. Let's get it all out in the open, shall we? What is it that seems to be the problem?"

Harry didn't look at him. "What?"

"There is clearly something the matter, and I believe that, if we must spend a few more detentions together, we must clear the air."

Harry put the bottle in his hand down carefully, squeezing it back into its spot on the shelf. "To be frank, sir, I don't really know what the matter is myself."

"Then we are both in the same boat."

Harry turned to face Snape. The man looked tired, as though he had lived twice his years. "Just… forget about it, okay?"

The teacher sneered. "I will do no such thing, Potter. Come." He led the way out of the store room.

Harry sighed and followed him out. Snape was already seated at his desk. Harry took out his wand and waved it, bringing a chair gently scooting across the floor before stopping with a thud in front of the table.

"Look, Professor," Harry began.

"Drop the honorifics for now, Potter," Snape said. "Let us speak as adults."

Harry sat down. This could be good for him. He could try to get a read on Snape, the way he did when interviewing or interrogating suspects. "Works for me, Snape."

Snape cocked an eyebrow. "Don't look so pleased with the idea. You will revert to speaking to me as an authority figure after this."

Harry shrugged. "So. Uh."

"What resentment do you still harbour for me, Potter, after all these years?" Snape asked, steepling his fingers. They were long and thin. It was not a nervous gesture, but a pensive one.

"What resentment do you have for _me_?" Harry retorted. "You started it, the day I first got here."

Snape's expression became patiently contemplative. It made him look almost peaceful. "I will not deny that my initial response to you was negative," he replied. "I confess that seeing you again for the first time in many years drew a childish response from me. For that, I apologize."

There was no sarcasm or sign of hidden meaning in the teacher's words. Then again, maybe a former Death Eater who knew Occlumency would have picked up some tricks on deception along the way. Still, Harry's gut instinct told him that Snape was being genuine. Or was it bias telling him that? He pushed the thought away. Why would he ever be biased for Snape? 

"What?" Harry asked. "Just like that?"

"Indeed," Snape said. "But this was not due to any true resentment, merely a tendency to fall back into old habits. This does not explain, however, why you repeatedly added fuel to the fire."

Harry didn't have a real answer to that. "I just prefer to go down fighting."

"Oh? There is no resentment on your part?"

Harry knew there was resentment on his part, and he knew it was probably pretty obvious. No sense being indirect about it. "You were cruel to me and my friends."

Snape nodded. A flicker of some painful emotion - regret, perhaps? - quickly crossed his face. "I will not deny it."

"Well, yeah, you can't, because it's true," Harry snapped. "Neville was more terrified of you than anyone in the world, and his only crime was needing a little extra teaching."

Snape's face was impassive, but Harry could see flashes of feeling in his eyes that gave him away. He clearly didn't like thinking about those times. "Yes, I was needlessly cruel." Snape looked away for a moment before meeting Harry's gaze again. His eyes were now blank, which was frustrating. 

Harry folded his arms. "Is that all you have to say?"

With a sigh, Snape rubbed his hands over each other. Finally, a clear nervous habit that Harry could see. He'd never known this formidable man to be nervous. It was like a fascinating case study, except much more personal.

"I deeply regret the mistakes of my younger years," Snape said, after some moments of silence. "I was failing to process emotional baggage in a healthy manner and took it out on those who could not fight me." He shook his head, as though trying to dispel his past self from his being. "There are no excuses available for such behaviour. I was wrong, and I hope that my current, more positive teaching methods indicate that I have left such atrocities in the past. With that being said, I apologize sincerely."

Snape had certainly changed a lot over the years. Who knew the man was capable of apologies?

"You are still needlessly mean to me, though," Harry said.

Snape gave Harry a quizzical look. "Perhaps," he said. "And you are to me. I take no personal offence. I believe it's merely… how we function. Unless you take issue?"

Warmth filled Harry's blood. _We._ What a funny little word, and what a funny concept - he and Snape, united in something. It didn't sound so bad.

Refusing to give in quite so easily, Harry pressed on. "And what about my mother?"

Snape didn't seem surprised that Harry mentioned her. "What about her?"

"You still in love with her or something? Still hate me for being proof she never loved you?"

A deep sigh told Harry he'd touched a nerve. "That was an unnecessarily cruel manner of phrasing, Potter," Snape said.

"It's just how we function," Harry retorted.

Another dramatic facial change: the left corner of Snape's mouth quirked upwards in a smirk. Well, dramatic for Snape, anyway. Harry found his eyes tracing the movement of the man's lips. He felt his own lips tug upwards as his gaze snapped back to Snape's - only to find that the man was also watching the smile spreading across Harry's mouth. A sudden shyness overcame Harry and he glanced down at his lap to hide it.

A few seconds of quiet passed before Snape spoke again. "I do not maintain romantic feelings for her," he said. "My interests have since evolved."

"Evolved, huh?" Harry thought about that and decided it was safe to look up again. It wasn't, because the Snape sitting in front of him now looked almost unrecognizable from the one that had been there seconds ago. Instead of a deadpan expression, he wore one of intensity, and he was staring straight at Harry with an unflinching, burning gaze. Harry swallowed. "Evolved how?"

"In the most unexpected ways," Snape replied. He was leaning forward a little over the table, and Harry was leaning in, too, as though drawn by some magnetic force.

"Tell me more," he said, unsure why he wanted that information. Deep within him, something instinctual was egging him on.

Snape's voice dropped to a whisper. "I have had some unexpected relationships, with unexpected people, with unexpected feelings, and unexpected results."

Breath caught in Harry's throat, snagging it before it could leave his body. "And?"

For a moment, Snape looked like he may come closer. Harry wished he could lunge forward and let them collide, but he hesitated, unsure. The moment was gone in a split second and Snape slid away, back into his seat. Snape's pale skin took to colour very easily, thought Harry, as his cheeks were tinted a soft pink - yet another sight that was brand new. 

Harry recognised the hunger in him now. Desire. Attraction. It was an all-consuming ache that spread from his chest, outwards through his nerves, flowing in his blood. He wasn't just curious about Snape's lesser-known expressions and actions - he _wanted_ to see them, almost _needed_ to. 

But Snape never let opportunities last for long. He showed these tidbits of his mannerisms for mere split seconds before they were gone, vanishing far beyond where Harry could follow. He should have trusted his instincts when he had the chance. He should have taken the opportunity to close the gap that now stretched between them. Now he'd never see what could have happened, what new things he would uncover. Maybe there was still time. Maybe he could still catch a fleeting moment. 

But Snape was standing up now. "Well," he said, smoothing his cloak down. "I believe we are done for today."

"But, my detention isn't -"

"I consider your work here done," Snape said. "All future detentions are now cancelled."

"But I -"

"You are dismissed, Potter." Snape began to walk out of the classroom, footfalls deliberate and slow as they echoed across the quiet chamber.

Harry sprung to his feet, tripping over a leg of his chair in his haste. "Wait!" he cried.

Snape did not wait. Harry hurried after him and, hoping that Snape wouldn't hex him into next week for this, he grabbed onto Snape's arm and held him tightly. Snape stiffened immediately but did not fight him off or tell him to stop. It was exhilarating, being in Snape's personal bubble like this.

"I thought we were letting things out in the open," Harry said. He wasn't out of breath, but his chest was heaving all the same, making it hard to speak. "Why are you closing me out like this?"

When Snape looked at Harry, there was a deep, looming sadness in his eyes. He wasn't trying to hide it. Now, this was a look Harry never wanted to see on Snape's face ever again. "This is not something that can work, Harry," he said.

Was it bad to ask Snape to say his name again? The timing wasn't the best. Maybe some humour would diffuse the unbearable tension sweeping between their bodies. "You're using my first name, so you must be very serious about this."

Snape didn't seem to think this was funny at all. "I am quite serious. This is not something that can work."

Repetition wasn't going to work on Harry. "I don't even know what the 'something' is," Harry said.

Then Harry saw it - a brief moment, a mere glimpse of that look of burning intensity on the Potions professor's face. Without thinking twice, he pulled Snape down to him and pressed their lips together.

Harry expected Snape to freeze, but he didn't. Instead, he moved closer to Harry, wrapping an arm around him, vice-like, pressing their bodies together. His hand came to rest on the small of Harry's back, sending tingles and shivers running up and down his spine. Their lips moved fervently, dancing against each other in a desperate bid to memorise each other's taste. Some part of Harry's mind registered how completely insane this situation one, but most of it was drowning in heady bliss, unable to process any kind of thought. There would be consequences to this, surely, but for now, that was fine, and Harry would be content to stay here for -

A hand pressed against Harry's chest and pushed him away, hard, sending him stumbling backwards. He caught himself against the edge of the doorframe. He searched for any sign of warmth from Snape but was met with nothing but an icy cold stare.

"That was thoroughly inappropriate, Potter," Snape said.

"You were participating!" Harry exclaimed. "Seriously, what -"

"Get out of my sight!" bellowed Snape. 

Those five words pierced Harry's chest, stinging worse than all the spells and curses that had been hurled at him in his entire life. Words failed to leave his tongue. He turned and ran from Snape and the Potions classroom, his legs carrying him faster than his brain could keep up.

\----

"Professor Snape?"

"What is it, Rambert? Are you having difficulty with your potion?"

"No, of course not, sir. I was just… wondering."

"Wondering is how we learn."

"Well… uh… Harry's not in today."

"That is his prerogative. Regardless, I hadn't noticed."

"In all due respect, sir, you've looked at his seat 20 times in the last few minutes."

"Fancy yourself an Auror now, Rambert? Perhaps Mr. Potter has been a bad influence."

"Okay but like -"

"Manners, Miss Yong."

" _Excuse me, sir,_ but like, we all know that isn't true."

"There is no possible way for you to know that."

"But sir, you and Harry were obviously at odds, and now he's not here, and now you're acting really weird and shit so -"

" _Language_ , Miss Yong!"

"Ah, fuck. I mean -"

"That's enough of this, class. You will continue working on your potions in sile-"

"B-b-b-ut, sir, p-please -"

"Ms. Sakinah, I strongly advise against joining in the tomfoolery of your friends."

"S-s-s-ir, if I m-may, H-Harry and you c-can still p-p-patch things up."

"It is lovely that you maintain such a charitable view of the world, but that is not the reality, and I doubt what you say will come to pass."

"Ah hah! So there _is_ something going on between ya'll!"

"Mr. Aurelio! Get back to work! Everyone get back to work, right now! Not a single ounce of speculation more, is that clear?"

"...yes, Professor Snape."

"Good. And wipe those smug looks off your faces. All of you!"

\----

Harry didn't get a lot of firecalls, so when he heard the whisper of a stern voice coming from his fireplace one day, he thought it might be a ghost. It wasn't a ghost, though - it was Headmistress McGonagall, whose serious face looked very amusing in the flames.

"Headmistress," Harry said in surprise. "What -"

"Mr. Potter," she said, and her tone immediately shut Harry up. "Where have you been?"

Harry had not returned to a Potions class since his altercation with Snape. He never wanted to go back. He knew it would cost him his job, but that sounded like future Harry's problem, not his.

"This is completely unacceptable!" McGonagall exclaimed. "You have missed a total of four classes with no letter provided to justify your absence. Explain yourself immediately!"

Before Harry could think of what to say, a voice called from the next room. "Harry, what's going on over there?"

"Entertaining guests while skipping your classes, Mr. Potter?" Headmistress McGonagall asked.

At that moment, Ron walked into the room. "Is that McGonagall?"

"That's _Headmistress_ McGonagall to you, Mr. Weasley," she replied crossly. "What are you doing here? Assisting Mr. Potter in his truancy?"

"Truancy?" Ron turned to look at Harry with a gobsmacked look on his face. "You've been cutting classes? I _knew_ something was wrong, but you wouldn't tell me anything!"

McGonagall's fiery features turned back to Harry. "Well? What's your excuse, Mr. Potter?"

"I…" Harry took a deep breath. "I don't have one, Headmistress."

"What?" Even though she wasn't in the room, Harry instinctively shrank back from her wrath. "I cannot believe I am hearing this from someone like you, Mr. Potter. If not for Professor Snape's decision to continually vouch for you, I would have you immediately removed from future classes."

"Wait, Professor Snape is vouching for me?" Harry felt a bloom of something hopeful and fierce in his stomach for a moment. But then he remembered the rage in Snape's eyes and it snuffed the light right out again.

"Indeed, for reasons I cannot possibly fathom," she said. "Sort this mess out, Mr. Potter, or I will override Professor Snape's recommendations and have you ejected from Hogwarts." She gave him a curt nod and vanished.

Harry and Ron stood in the living room of Harry's home for a few seconds, staring at where the Headmistress' head had once been. 

"So," Ron said, breaking the silence. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

So Harry did. He lay on his sofa while Ron sat in an armchair next to it, and he spilt his guts about everything that had happened. Words fell out of his mouth as though they had been filled to the brim before, spilling out in an incoherent mess that only someone who had known Harry for years had a chance of untangling. Luckily, Ron was just the person for the job. 

When Harry was done, Ron looked exasperated, concerned, and mildly grossed out. But he voiced none of those issues, opting for supportive statements instead. "So, what are you going to do now?" he asked.

"Maybe I could run away to somewhere far away," Harry muttered. "Get a non-magical job and hope no one ever recognizes me."

"No need to be so dramatic," Ron said, sounding much too amused for Harry's liking. "Have you even talked to Snape since then? If he's vouching for you, he probably wants you to keep going to classes."

"I could never show my face in there ever again."

Ron shrugged. "Wear a mask, maybe?"

Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands. "It's not funny."

"I dunno, mate, it sure seems funny," Ron replied. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's not so bad, you know? The Director could probably get you a different certification or something."

"You haven't met her, Ron. She's strict. She's not going to allow it."

Ron yanked Harry's hands away from where they were shielding his eyes from the world. "Yeah, but it's a bit soon to be getting worked up over this, innit? If this actually happens, we can get as sad about it as we want. But for now, let's put all this to rest, eh? No sense getting anxious now, you don't even know what's gonna happen."

Harry sighed. "Yeah. You're right."

"Are you sure you're not… secretly anxious about something else?" Ron asked. His voice was hesitant, but it made Harry's look up.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"Don't get all defensive or anything, mate," Ron said. "It's just… you and Snape… bloody weird as it is to say…"

"What?"

Ron grimaced. "You're… you've got a… thing."

"Thing?"

"Didn't you snog?"

Heat rose to Harry's cheeks. "It wasn't _like_ that. It was a heat of the moment thing"

"I dunno," Ron said. "I don't think you'd snog just anyone in the heat of the moment."

"Well, not just anyone," Harry sighed. "But…"

"But what?" Ron leaned back in his chair, frowning. "Look, I don't _like_ Snape. But if you think he's fit -"

"Stop, please," Harry said, once again burying his face in his hands. "I don't know what I think anymore. I don't even know if I actually feel any way about him."

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hey, Harry. Before this all happened, did you get… weird about Snape?"

Harry peered out from between his fingers. "Weird?"

"Like…" Ron gave him a sheepish grin. "Stalker-y."

"What? No! Of course not!"

"So you didn't start staring at him all the time? Wondering what he was thinking? Hoping you could get some secret look into his life?"

"No, I -" Harry stopped short. "I… uh…"

Ron seemed satisfied by this answer. "Thought so."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Look, mate, I'll level with you." Ron glanced at Harry fleetingly. "That's just a thing you do when you catch feelings."

Harry sat up. Had Ron lost his mind? "It is not."

"Remember Malfoy? You had a massive crush on him in Sixth year, and you got _obsessed_ with him."

"Yeah but that was way worse than this."

"Well you're an adult now and you know better than to be an obsessive creep," Ron replied. "And remember that other Auror trainee you were into for a bit? You spent ages trying to decode his whole life story."

"But -"

"And don't forget the guy at the cafe -"

"Okay, okay, I get the point!" Harry yelled. 

Another grin played on Ron's face. "I guess it would be scary, huh?" he said, after a while. "And super weird. Having feelings for someone you've hated for the longest time. You scared of what might happen? About having to see someone in a whole new light?"

Harry shrugged.

"You and Snape are so different from who you used to be, right?" Ron continued. "You said he seems to have totally different values than he used to, and that he even apologized for things he's done in the past. So maybe you shouldn't think of it as getting to know scary, awful old Professor Snape - but as getting to know Severus Snape, a complicated chap with hangups and baggage to go with his redeeming qualities. You know?"

Harry couldn't help but crack a smile. "I guess."

"I'm not saying you need to shag the bloke, but you could always just… befriend him, you know? See where it leads?"

"Yeah." Harry sat up, feeling refreshed for the first time in weeks. "That was pretty insightful, Ron."

Ron chuckled. "Always with the tone of surprise."

"Thanks, man."

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't even mention it. What are friends for?" He pulled Harry off the couch and to his feet and repeated his earlier question. "So, what are you going to do now?"

Harry glanced up at his clock. His next Potions class was in a couple of hours. "I'm going to keep my job, for one."

\----

"You're looking rather down today, Severus."

"Am I? Perhaps that is merely how my face appears, Minerva."

"I suppose that may be the case, but I'm inclined to believe that something may be the matter."

"Believe as you like."

"I only wish to express my concerns. Perhaps this has something to do with your lesson plans, or a problematic student, or maybe even -"

"Oh, stop pretending you don't know what's going on, Minerva. How did you think I'd ever fall for that?"

"Hmm. Very well. May I sit with you?"

"If you must."

"Severus, what has happened between you and Mr. Potter?"

"That is our business, Minerva."

"It becomes my business when it affects the attendance of our students."

"You spoke to him, then?"

"He shed no further light on the subject."

"How curious."

"I know what's happening here, Severus."

"Pray tell, for I do not."

"You like this man."

"I like all of my students."

"Not in that sort of way, Sever- wipe that smirk off your face, you bastard, you know what I mean."

"So, you've figured it out."

"Did you expect me not to?

"Not for a second, Minerva. Not for a second."

"So you chased him away from your class because you are frightened of being close to someone again?"

"Excuse me, Minerva. Did I request a callout?"

"No, this one is on the house, Severus. Free of charge."

"I merely did what had to be done. I am in a position of power. To be in a relationship with a student is unprofessional. I am surprised that a Headmistress would encourage it."

"Mr. Potter is an adult. He is not an official Hogwarts student, and your authority remains within his classes only, not outside of them."

"I suppose."

"The only reason you deny your desires is out of fear, and you cannot convince me otherwise."

"I shall not be foolish enough to make the attempt."

"Am I right, as usual?"

"Oh, go away."

\----

When Harry arrived at Potions, the entire classroom gasped, and he had the pleasure of viewing Snape's shock and surprise for a fraction of a moment before the professor returned to looking unbothered. 

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," Harry said. "Sorry I'm a little late."

"Take your seat," Snape said, not meeting Harry's eyes.

Harry did as instructed. Coy was staring at Harry with awe. "You're back!" they whispered.

"Yeah, sorry for being gone so long," Harry said. "My head wasn't on right."

Snape cleared his throat and Coy and Harry fell silent. For the entirety of the class, Snape did not look once at Harry, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off him. He noticed more things now - additional nervous movements, subtle signs of approval or disapproval, careful word choices. He wondered if he'd ever get tired of them, or run out of things to learn about Snape. He doubted it.

Class drew to a close and students began to file out of the classroom, thrilled to be released from the perils of lessons. Harry began to pack up his things.

"Mr. Potter," Snape called from his seat behind his desk, and Harry's pulse jittered forward in a rush. "Remain. I wish to speak to you." Noticing the curious students stalling for time, the professor snapped, "Privately!"

The remaining Seventh years filed out of the classroom. Harry walked up to Snape's desk. His legs felt like unsteady twigs. "Yes, sir?"

Snape gestured to the chair already waiting in front of the table. Harry sat down, trying to get a read on the man and failing.

Snape sighed. Tension and guarded indifference melted away, replaced by tiredness. "Potter, I owe you an apology."

"Really?" Harry asked. "For what?"

"I was frightened of you, Potter," he said. "I was frightened, and I took it out on you instead of communicating these problems with you."

"Frightened? Of me?" Harry smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not really that scary, sir."

"Please, do not call me sir now," Snape said. "We are equals outside of class times."

Equals. That sounded nice. "Okay, but I still don't get how I'm scary."

Snape rubbed his hands over one another. Nervousness, just like the last time they sat here. "I… there is no easy way…" He trailed off and closed his eyes, then slid a hand across the table and offered it to Harry. Harry thought his whole heart might just leap right out of his chest and go prancing across the castle grounds. 

He tried not to look too eager when he took Snape's hand, but from the mildly amused expression Snape wore, he hadn't succeeded. He watched his fingers interlace with Snape's and felt the heat rising from them. "I…" Harry nodded. "Yeah. Me too."

"Hey, Professor Snape, I forgot my spare quill, could I -" Coy rushed into the room, saw the two men holding hands, and let out a tiny thrilled squeak. "Ah! Um, never mind, I'll get it next class!" They hurried back out again.

"Kids," Snape muttered as their running footsteps faded away.

Harry looked up at the professor, taking in the more open expressions, the more relaxed features, the pensive intelligence mixed with just a slight hint of gentle happiness. He could get used to this. "Do you think, maybe, we could give this - whatever this is - a try?"

Snape nodded, once. "I suppose we will have to."

Euphoria couldn't begin to describe the sensations leaping in Harry's blood, the sudden fluttering in his stomach, the lack of breath that suddenly plagued him. He laughed. "Wow, what an enthusiastic response."

"Careful, Potter. I may have to flunk you."

"Oh no, then I'd have to come back and do this all over again and spend more time with you," Harry grinned. "What an awful travesty."

Snape rolled his eyes, but Harry could see just a hint of a smile on his face. The thought of never letting another one of Snape's smiles, no matter how small or large, slip past him again made Harry immeasurably happy. 

"Okay seriously though," he added. "Please don't flunk me, I really miss my work."

Snape's eye roll turned exasperated. "Always ruining the moment, Potter."

"That's what I do best." Harry gave him the cheekiest smile he could muster. "Hey, you know, I liked when you called me Harry."

Snape looked down to where their hands were joined. "One thing at a time, Potter," he said. "One thing at a time."

One thing at a time worked just fine for Harry. It meant he never had to miss another new thing from Snape again, and that was more than enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [LiveJournal](https://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3895742.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1824771.html), or [Dreamwidth](https://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/1153102.html).


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